A hand covered her mouth, pinched her nose. Farrah's eyes flew open, and she struggled against the hands that suffocated her. She could feel herself being lifted, and resisted even more. She tried to pull away, but the lack of air started to take effect. Her lungs burned, and she felt very faint. Spasmodically, her hands reached to grab a hold of the ones that kept her from breathing. Her arms and legs jerked in paroxysms as her vision dimmed.
"Stupid fool," she heard a voice mutter. She tried to scream, but all that came was a muffled yell. She looked up with frightened, pleading eyes at the man who held her. He glared at her, but moved the fingers covering her nose. She sucked in air greedily, her head spinning, black spots dotting her vision. She blinked a few times to clear them, and looked quickly around her. She glared at the man holding her, and started struggling anew.
"Stop it," he snarled at her. "Or did you like not breathing?" She stopped thrashing about, but continued to glare vehemently at her captor. She wanted to scream at him, ask him where he was taking her. But she couldn't speak for his hand covering her mouth. Her hands were clenched, and she waited impatiently until he finally came to a stop. He opened a door, and, stepping in, threw her to the ground. Then he bowed low, and backed out of the room.
Frowning at the man's behavior, she rolled to her hands and knees. Slowly, she turned around, standing as she did so. Her eyes flitted around, examining the room. It was huge; it was a bedroom. And there was somebody lying on the bed. Farrah stiffened; she knew that this would come eventually, but she didn't think it would be so soon. When she looked closer at the man's face, she had to stifle a gasp. She bit the inside of her lip. It was Emperor Ozorne.
He stood languidly, and strode over to her. As he came closer, she backed up, until she banged against the wall. Ozorne stood very close to her, smiling cruelly down on her. At his staring, Farrah became indignant.
"What do you want-"He slapped her. She stumbled to the side, trying to keep her balance. She spun her arms, trying to stop herself from falling. Ozorne struck her again. She lost her balance, falling sprawled out to the floor. Ozorne grinned cruelly. Breathing hard, she tried to crawl backward, but Ozorne reached down and grabbed her arm, dragging her back to him. Bending down, he lifted her struggling body and deposited her on the bed. He held her arms down, pinning her legs under his knees. He smiled maliciously. Farrah rocked her body against the bed, trying to pull away. His hands began to glow a light green, and Farrah found that she couldn't move at all. Try as she might, the only thing that hadn't been immobilized were her eyes. They flitted around, looking desperately for some escape.
Ozorne leaned down to kiss her roughly, bruising her lips with his. He let go of her arms, and moved his hands down along her body harshly. She wanted to scream at the feeling of violation she felt rise inside her; she couldn't even move her mouth.
Ozorne's hands moved down the hollow of her stomach, caressing it ruthlessly, with soft, gilded hands. He moved back upward, his hands sliding under her shirt. She couldn't suppress a shudder as she felt him touch her breasts. He pinched her nipples, making her gasp in pain. Again, she tried to struggle; he had slackened the spell; apparently, he liked his bed-slave to fight.
He rocked his body against hers as he tore off the tattered shirt she wore. He cupped her breasts in his hands, squeezing them, hard. Farrah bit down hard on her lip to keep from crying out; she was adamant. She would not call out, no matter what he did. He had no power over her; no real power.
She could not, however, keep the tears from falling as he desecrated her body, her very self. When he saw her weep, he smiled brutally.
"You're a slave," he told her softly. "A lowly slave, fit only to serve."
"I – am – not!" she choked out the words as he pinched her. She could feel pain blossoming all over; her arms, her legs, her stomach, her chest. She closed her eyes tightly and gritted her teeth; she could still not move enough to get away. Ozorne stilled his movements. He himself wore nothing now, having stripped away his own clothes even as he stripped away hers. Slowly, very slowly, he rested the tip of his manhood at her opening.
"You're not?" he asked. It was a simple question, but there was underlying venom in the way he said it that made Farrah shudder uncontrollably. She opened her eyes to see his face. She was defiant, despite her fear; she was still virgin; and she didn't want to lose that claim now. The calm, beautiful face twisted quickly into a mask of malice, and he growled out, "No?" She made an effort to shake her head. Ozorne sneered.
"Oh, but I do believe you are." He thrust into her, sheathing himself to the hilt. She could not keep herself from screaming with the pain of it. Her screams grew louder as he thrusted into her, bruising her thighs with his weight.
She shuddered convulsively, wishing she were somewhere else. He kept thrusting, despite her cries and pleas for him to stop. She felt something build up inside her, and, when it reached its peak, she shuddered. Finally, she felt him stiffen above her, and he pulled out of her to straddle her shivering body.
"You are." He told her in a low voice. He rolled over to stretch out in the bed beside her. She felt the magical tension in her hands ease, and she pulled her self slowly into a ball. Her back turned to him, she slid to the edge of the bed, trying to keep as far away from him as she could. Bringing her knees to her chin, she closed her eyes and wept for her lost self. She felt shattered, broken...
No! She thought. He will not break me so easily as this. He will not...break me...
Ignoring the pain she felt between her legs and all over her body, she let herself fall into oblivion. The only thing that mattered was keeping him away. And making sure he knew she would not be broken.
"Stupid fool," she heard a voice mutter. She tried to scream, but all that came was a muffled yell. She looked up with frightened, pleading eyes at the man who held her. He glared at her, but moved the fingers covering her nose. She sucked in air greedily, her head spinning, black spots dotting her vision. She blinked a few times to clear them, and looked quickly around her. She glared at the man holding her, and started struggling anew.
"Stop it," he snarled at her. "Or did you like not breathing?" She stopped thrashing about, but continued to glare vehemently at her captor. She wanted to scream at him, ask him where he was taking her. But she couldn't speak for his hand covering her mouth. Her hands were clenched, and she waited impatiently until he finally came to a stop. He opened a door, and, stepping in, threw her to the ground. Then he bowed low, and backed out of the room.
Frowning at the man's behavior, she rolled to her hands and knees. Slowly, she turned around, standing as she did so. Her eyes flitted around, examining the room. It was huge; it was a bedroom. And there was somebody lying on the bed. Farrah stiffened; she knew that this would come eventually, but she didn't think it would be so soon. When she looked closer at the man's face, she had to stifle a gasp. She bit the inside of her lip. It was Emperor Ozorne.
He stood languidly, and strode over to her. As he came closer, she backed up, until she banged against the wall. Ozorne stood very close to her, smiling cruelly down on her. At his staring, Farrah became indignant.
"What do you want-"He slapped her. She stumbled to the side, trying to keep her balance. She spun her arms, trying to stop herself from falling. Ozorne struck her again. She lost her balance, falling sprawled out to the floor. Ozorne grinned cruelly. Breathing hard, she tried to crawl backward, but Ozorne reached down and grabbed her arm, dragging her back to him. Bending down, he lifted her struggling body and deposited her on the bed. He held her arms down, pinning her legs under his knees. He smiled maliciously. Farrah rocked her body against the bed, trying to pull away. His hands began to glow a light green, and Farrah found that she couldn't move at all. Try as she might, the only thing that hadn't been immobilized were her eyes. They flitted around, looking desperately for some escape.
Ozorne leaned down to kiss her roughly, bruising her lips with his. He let go of her arms, and moved his hands down along her body harshly. She wanted to scream at the feeling of violation she felt rise inside her; she couldn't even move her mouth.
Ozorne's hands moved down the hollow of her stomach, caressing it ruthlessly, with soft, gilded hands. He moved back upward, his hands sliding under her shirt. She couldn't suppress a shudder as she felt him touch her breasts. He pinched her nipples, making her gasp in pain. Again, she tried to struggle; he had slackened the spell; apparently, he liked his bed-slave to fight.
He rocked his body against hers as he tore off the tattered shirt she wore. He cupped her breasts in his hands, squeezing them, hard. Farrah bit down hard on her lip to keep from crying out; she was adamant. She would not call out, no matter what he did. He had no power over her; no real power.
She could not, however, keep the tears from falling as he desecrated her body, her very self. When he saw her weep, he smiled brutally.
"You're a slave," he told her softly. "A lowly slave, fit only to serve."
"I – am – not!" she choked out the words as he pinched her. She could feel pain blossoming all over; her arms, her legs, her stomach, her chest. She closed her eyes tightly and gritted her teeth; she could still not move enough to get away. Ozorne stilled his movements. He himself wore nothing now, having stripped away his own clothes even as he stripped away hers. Slowly, very slowly, he rested the tip of his manhood at her opening.
"You're not?" he asked. It was a simple question, but there was underlying venom in the way he said it that made Farrah shudder uncontrollably. She opened her eyes to see his face. She was defiant, despite her fear; she was still virgin; and she didn't want to lose that claim now. The calm, beautiful face twisted quickly into a mask of malice, and he growled out, "No?" She made an effort to shake her head. Ozorne sneered.
"Oh, but I do believe you are." He thrust into her, sheathing himself to the hilt. She could not keep herself from screaming with the pain of it. Her screams grew louder as he thrusted into her, bruising her thighs with his weight.
She shuddered convulsively, wishing she were somewhere else. He kept thrusting, despite her cries and pleas for him to stop. She felt something build up inside her, and, when it reached its peak, she shuddered. Finally, she felt him stiffen above her, and he pulled out of her to straddle her shivering body.
"You are." He told her in a low voice. He rolled over to stretch out in the bed beside her. She felt the magical tension in her hands ease, and she pulled her self slowly into a ball. Her back turned to him, she slid to the edge of the bed, trying to keep as far away from him as she could. Bringing her knees to her chin, she closed her eyes and wept for her lost self. She felt shattered, broken...
No! She thought. He will not break me so easily as this. He will not...break me...
Ignoring the pain she felt between her legs and all over her body, she let herself fall into oblivion. The only thing that mattered was keeping him away. And making sure he knew she would not be broken.